Like Kids
by AlidaHush
Summary: Post Potential. When the trigger becomes and issue, is Spike strong enough to trust himself and the ones around him?
1. Alleyways

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all characters of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel". I just like to torture them sometimes.

Chapter One

"Alleyways"

He snarled in rage, blocking punch after punch. Spike sidestepped and whirled around, catching the demon in his chin. He felt the bones crunch and watched as the animal crumpled to the ground. He was out. Spike's demon receded and his arms fell limp at his sides. Buffy, breathing deeply, sauntered up beside him and handed him a stake.

"I really miss the old days." He sighed, driving the wood into the vampire's chest. Dust exploded before him and he handed the stake back to Buffy. As he turned to head out of the alley, Buffy grabbed his arm.

"You're hurt." She pointed out coldly. Spike looked down at his side, watching the crimson blood trickle down his shirt. With a small sigh, he pressed his fingers over it.

"I's not bad." He said, cocking his head in frustration. "I'd wager that's enough demon hunting for one night."

Buffy just nodded and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Spike never said much to her anymore when they were patrolling.

"So, how are the…" Buffy stopped, chancing a look at the injured vampire. "How are you?" she rephrased, glancing toward his chest. Two days ago he pointed out his injured ribs. Actually, Buffy almost broke them again and that's what pretty much pointed it out.

Spike smiled slightly and shrugged. "Better. I'd say the girls can start beatin' on me again pretty soon." He smiled and looked down at his boots. Buffy smiled too. She liked it when he made jokes. It seemed simpler to her. He wasn't always on about the end of the world. She liked that.

They walked briskly, normally, toward Revello Drive, small interjections passing between them. Usually it was pointless banter, something to pass the time.

"So, Kennedy fancies herself the boss, then does she?" Spike asked with a curl of the lip. Buffy nodded and looked up, kicking out pointedly with her boot.

"Yeah. Lately, she's been all up in arms about the way the girls are handling themselves. Telling everyone to stop being "kids". Which is ironic since, you know," she cocked her head to the side. "They are."

Spike stopped walking, crossing his arms across his chest. Buffy turned to face him. "They're scared, is all. And it's right they should be."

"I know. And you coming back all battered and beaten, doesn't really boost moral." Buffy said simply, flipping her hair out of her face. Quickly, she noticed Spike's sullen expression. Oh, no. Back pedal. Back pedal like crazy.

"No, Spike…I" she took a step closer. Spike just gave a weak smile and nodded.

"S'alright, pet. I know what ya meant." He looked around, sighing heavily. "Besides, I'm not looking fer pity. Don' need you coddlin' me like some…" he stopped, chuckling at the irony. "Some kid."

And with that, he took off toward the Summer's house, leaving Buffy to stand and watch him stalk away. She looked down, ashamed of making him feel that way. He wasn't a burden. She never really thought of him that way. More of a stray dog that—No! Not that either. Buffy shook her head, pulling the coat tighter around her. Would it help to run up beside him, explain that she wasn't trying to make him feel worse, or unwanted. No. It was Spike. "Coddling" as he tended to call it, would only open the wound.

So, after a silent battle inside her head, she walked off after the vampire, head deliberately aimed downward.


	2. Cold, Dark Basements

Chapter Two

"Cold, Dark Basements"

Buffy placed her hand over the tiny gold knob, her fingers twitching over the cold metal. Should she? It had almost been three hours since they got back. The girls were asleep. The house was silent. Would it make a difference? She shook her head. Too many questions. Just go.

The knob twisted, opening the door on creaky hinges. As she looked down the damp wooden steps, she saw his shadow, moving slightly in the soft lamplight. Right. Night animal. Like owls and cats. She smiled at the comparison. Spike as an owl? Not too appealing.

She silently crept down the steps, making sure her boots didn't make too much noise. But it didn't matter. He could hear her from miles away. Probably could hear her heartbeat from all the way up the stairs. His shadow stopped moving, it's long black gloom centered in the room.

She finished the decent, stopping on the last step and grasping the banner for support. She gave an inward smile as she took in his appearance. He was shirtless and bootless, just wandering around in his black jeans smoking a cigarette. He cocked a half-hearted smile and looked sideways at his smoke.

"Somethin' on your mind, Slayer?" he asked, the playful air in his voice now gone. Buffy took in a deep breath and watched as he turned around. The ugly stab wound at his side was just that, ugly and painful looking. Buffy sought words, but all she could find were the stupid ones always on the end of her tongue.

"You should…um," she stopped, moving a bit closer. "You should have let me look at that." She made a vague motion to his stomach. Spike cocked his head and pursed his lips in the usual mock-shrug.

"Don trouble yourself." He replied, putting out the smoke in an ashtray near the cot. "So, is 'at it? Come ta check on me?" he asked sarcastically, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, arms resting on his knees. Buffy looked down. Again, the words didn't want to come out of her mouth.

"I actually," she began, still searching her vocabulary list. "I wanted to…I'm sorry about what I said." With a downward sigh, Spike nodded knowingly. He clasped his hands for a moment, then stood up, chest thrust forward as if he were trying to make himself look larger.

"Look, Buffy, I already told you I know what you meant. 'Sides, you got bigger problems than worryin' 'bout me." He pointed up the stairs. "You got handfuls a girls up there countin' on you. You don have to come an make nice everytime you say somethin' I don like."

"Spike, I…"

"Buffy. I'm fine. I promise." He turned his back to her, sinewy muscle clearly visible in the lamplight. He was a terrible liar, he always had been.

Buffy didn't say anything, only turned and headed back up the steps. She tried. She failed. But as she reached the top step, she heard him heave a small sigh. She stopped and looked down. He was looking up with questioning eyes.

'Why'd you come after me? Save me?" he asked, pulling out another smoke and lighting it. Buffy closed her eyes for half a second. Just long enough to pull out some more of those damned vocabulary words.

"We've been through this, Spike." She said coldly, walking back a few steps. She didn't look at him. "I came back because I need you."

"Right. The big fight against evil." He mumbled, dragging in the smoke to his lungs. Buffy huffed so loudly that Spike looked up in alarm.

"No. Not the fight, Spike. It has nothing to do with fighting."

"Then why? S'clear your mates don't care for me," he rethought what he had said, then rephrased his words. "Alright, so they never did, but..."

"I came back for you because I need you.." She replied softly, eyes flashing over his face. His expression showed the amount of questioning he held inside him, but he didn't say anything else. So, Buffy opened the basement door and left, shutting it with a dull click behind her.


	3. Training Day

Chapter Three

"Training Day"

"Are you saying that instinct wins over tactic? Because if you are, I think you are so out of your league." Kennedy stated, hands on her hips. Spike narrowed his eyes.

"All I'm sayin' is that for a hundred bloody years I've—"

"Look, Big Bad, I don't think you honestly know what you're talking about. Just because you're a big creepy vampire, doesn't mean I couldn't kick your ass." She replied, cutting him off and pressing her nose close to his face. Spike's jaw twitched, eyes closing in frustration.

"You think you can train them?" he asked bluntly. Kennedy shrugged and looked backwards at the Potentials.

"At least I can teach them tactic. Maneuvers." She said, crossing her arms. "Which is more than I can say for some." Spike shook his head slightly.

"Fine. 'Ave at it, luv." He finished coldly, turning and throwing open the back door. He was in no mood for her. Or really anyone for that matter. He quickly padded down into the basement, taking his jacket off and tossing it over the washing machine. With a defeated sigh, he slumped down onto the cot, hands to his forehead.

Buffy should have left him. For all the wishing he did while the First held him captive, he began to feel as if he were a burden. A burden who could fire off at anytime. The trigger was still active. All the First had to do was say the word. Or at least sing it. He knew she'd come back. He believed it inside. But there was always the doubt. Always the nagging feeling that maybe she shouldn't have risked everything for him…

"Getting too rough for you?" a voice asked from the stairs. Buffy. Spike looked up with a grunt. He shook his head and leaned back against the wall.

"Teenagers. Think they bloody well know everything." He replied with a smile. Buffy nodded knowingly.

"Kennedy."

"Yeah." He nodded. "S'alright. I'll let 'er have a go for a bit, then come up an' show 'em how it's done." He smirked, pointing upstairs. Buffy crept down into the blank darkness, only lit by a stray light bulb. After a moment's silence, she cut through the dark.

"So, are we O.K?" she asked deeply. There was no sympathy in her voice. It was a question pointed more at a wounded warrior than at a soulful vampire. Spike mulled the question over in his brain. Should he tell Buffy? Explain that he should go. No, she would just tell him to stay. She wouldn't let him go. So, instead, he just shrugged and nodded.

"Yea. Peachy." He replied, standing. Buffy crossed her arms and gravely pursed her lips.

"Good." She turned to go, glancing at him slightly. "Good."

"Buffy?" Spiked asked sharply, a pang of sudden worry in his voice. He didn't really know why he had done that. Stupid. She turned back from the stairs, looking quizzacticaly at him. Words. Where were the words? What was he going to say?

Oh, yeah…

"Thank you."

Buffy nodded, no smile gracing her face. It was an expression of a tired soldier. A soldier who had saved someone from death, but never registered it as anything more than her job. So, without another word, she opened the door, the inevitable dull click following shortly after.

Spike sat back down on the cot. Hands finding his forehead again and he starred at the floor.


	4. Reasons

Chapter Four

"Reasons"

The graveyard was empty. There hadn't been a vamp for hours. Buffy swung her arms lazily at her side, every now and then looking at Spike out of the side of her eye. He was expressionless. No smile. No smirk. No quirky saying on his lips.

"Maybe we should head back." She suggested bluntly. She heard Spike sigh.

"Maybe." He replied lightly. "Should go back an' train the girls. No sense in wastin' a night."

"Yeah."

Silence. Walking. More silence. She couldn't stand it. This was Spike. The one who tried to kill her. The one who gave everything to love her. The one who tried so hard at…everything. This wasn't like him.

"Spike." Her voice cut through the thick night air. She stopped walking. Spike stopped too.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, looking at her with tired eyes. Words. Again with the no wordiness.

"This isn't you." She said bluntly, crossing her arms and huffing. Spike squinted slightly.

"What?"

"This…broody thing you're doing." She waved her right hand through the air pointedly.

"Slayer…"

"You give up! You stop trying and you don't say anything…shirty… anymore." She said, desperate to get her point across. Spike slammed his hands onto his hips.

"Slayer, what are you on about?" he cried, shaking his head in disbelief. Buffy shifted, throwing her eyes upward to look at the sky briefly.

"Ever since…" she stopped. New words. "Ever since I brought you back, you've done nothing but sit in the basement. You never say anything to me anymore." She was beginning to sound like a nagging girlfriend. Oh, God. Girlfriend. Wrong word!

Spike rolled his eyes knowingly and sighed. "Right. Look, I'm not tryin' ta impress or anything, pet. I don't want your sympathy. I'm here 'cause you want me. You told me that. I had my way? I'd go…" he stopped, searching for a good place. "Anywhere. So long as I can't be used against you an' your lot anymore."

Buffy nodded curtly.

"So that's what this is about." She crossed her arms. "You think that if you stay—"

"I'll hurt you, Buffy." He replied, taking a step towards her. "I couldn't bare it."

Buffy sighed, eyes wandering the ground.

"I told you once before that you're better than this."

"And I believed you. S'what kept me from going outta my soddin' mind down there in those caverns." He gripped Buffy gently by the shoulders.

"Then why don't you trust me?" she asked, searching his eyes for a logical answer.

"Cause I can't trust maself. So long as the First 'as got me under it's thumb, I wont be able to. The best and safest way for all of us is if I just go. No more games. One less problem…"

Buffy shrugged out of his touch.

"No. I need you here when it gets bad." She looked at him again. He was begging. Begging to be set free. "Because I can't do this alone."

"Slayer, you're not alone!" he said, stepping into her way as she tried to move past him. "You got the Scoobies ta take care of you. You don' need me." He finished, straightening and looking over his shoulder uneasily. Buffy just looked at him, tiredly. There was nothing for her to do. How could she convince him? What would it take?

Maybe all she had to do was something stupid…

So, without thinking, she reached out and touched his fingers, curling them around her own. He glanced down, worried, but didn't try to struggle away. They were holding hands. Just touching. Like little kids used to do on the old swing sets in grade school. Buffy smiled sheepishly, then moved a few steps closer. Spike edged back, releasing her hand,

"Buffy…" he said, warning showering his voice. Buffy sighed and nodded.

"I know." She pressed her fingers into the bridge of her nose.

"Look, I can't. Not tonight."

"Spike, please…"

"I'm not gonna do this!" he snarled, nearly stamping his foot in rage. He glared at her for a moment and then sighed, looking up and rolling his eyes,

"I'm not good with…this. I can't just explain what I'm feelin'. Cause, honestly, Buffy…" he paused to look at her. "I don' know."

"Then trust me. Trust me to help you." She said, taking that inevitable step towards him. Spike steeled himself for harsh words, but instead felt her lips brush hers. She lifted her fingers over his bicep and rested them on his shoulder. It had been a while since he had kissed her. Since he had even dared to look at her like he did before. But it didn't feel right. Something wasn't right. Spike pressed the heels of his hands onto her shoulders and pushed her away.

"This…" he closed his eyes. "This can't work. We're like…like kids."

And with that, he turned and sauntered away, much with the air of a defeated warrior.


	5. Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter Five

"Smoke And Mirrors"

Spike held the cigarette between his lips, letting it bob as he walked. The cemetery was empty. He really couldn't figure out why. Maybe all the vamps had turned tail and run once they realized that Sunnyhell was about to become Ubervamp fodder. With an inward shrug he walked on, hand in his jacket pocket. He honestly didn't care about that now. Fighting was just another blur in his unlife. Punching things used to give him such satisfaction. Now it just made things more complicated. Required maneuvers. Maneuvers that, apparently, he didn't have.

He thought back to Drusilla…no, wait, back to the first pretending to be Drusilla. He smiled slightly, realizing how sad it was that he could tell the difference. If it was Dru, she would have tortured him herself. Instead, he was beaten half to unholy hell by the Turok Han of the underworld.

And through his memory, he felt another surface…

I"You faced the demon inside and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man… and you can be. I believe in you, Spike."I/

He took in another lungful of smoke. But no matter how many he smoked, the memories, the thoughts…none of it could go away. And there was always that nagging question…Why?

Did it nag at everyone?

Why this, why that. Why did she save me? Why did I believe she would? Why?

Another lungful of smoke.

"You want to be alone, or is there room for two?" asked a familiar voice. Spike wrinkled his brow and turned to come face to face with her. Beautiful hair. Perfect little smile. He even smelled the magic rising off of her in plumes.

"Tara?" he breathed, taking her in. His eyes narrowed at a sudden realization. It hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking the cigarette to the ground. He balled his fists and stood tall. Not this time. This time he would fight.

"What's wrong? Willow told me how—"

"Don't." Spike spat, taking a step forward. Tara smiled. "I told you once before, luv. I'm no one's puppet. Least wise yours. No more smoke n' mirrors."

Tara smiled sweetly and advanced, reaching out to take his arm. Spike knew she couldn't touch him, but he backed away anyway.

"Oh, Spike, you don't know do you?"

Spike narrowed his eyes, questioningly. Tara laughed, eyes flashing in the moonlight.

"You're going to lose." She whispered before winking out of existence. Spike drew himself up again, looking around curiously. Worried? Oh, yeah. Just a little. The First new where he was…

Spike checked his thought and laughed. Of course The First knew. Where else was he going to go?

"Spike?" a voice asked from behind him. He whirled around, game face raised, only to stare into Buffy's worried gaze. He cocked his head and let the demon fall away. She narrowed her eyes.

"Sorry, luv. Bit…skittish." He sighed, looking around, eyes darting here and there.

"Skittish? Of what? I haven't seen anything all night." Buffy followed his gaze, sighing and cocking her hips in bordem.

"Yeah…" Spike sighed as well. "Me neither. Looks like the demon population took the hint. Got the bloody hell outa town."

Suddenly, on his left, he saw Tara step out from behind a mosoleum, smiled perched on her lips. Spike squinted, drawing Buffy's attention to the spot.

"Spike? What is it?"

Tara stepped up to him, putting her finger up to his lips, hovering over them. "Shh…I told you, Spike. You lose."

And then the song began to play. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt it playing. Faintly at first, then louder until it filled his ears. His demon roared in rage. He watched as his vision blurred and Buffy grew faint.

"Oh, god…" he breathed. Buffy became nervous, stepping back as the demon emerged onto his face.

"Spike? What's wrong?" she asked, pulling a stake from her belt. But his reply came in the form of a feral growl and he took no time leaping at her throat.

"Oh, Spike. How could you use a poor maiden so?" Tara asked, fading away into the night.


	6. Kids

Chapter Six

"Kids"

Spike snarled in rage, connecting his fist to Buffy's chin. But it wasn't Spike who hit her. No. Spike was somewhere, passed out in the back of his mind. This was another Spike. This was pure demon. His demon.

Buffy quickly recovered, throwing a good kick to his gut. He growled low in his throat, flashing his fangs.

"What the hell are you doing?" Buffy cried, pulling the stake close to her shoulder. Spike just gave a snarl and lept at her again. That's when it hit her. The trigger. She sighed inwardly and held the stake tight. She didn't want to use it. This wasn't Spike. But somehow she had to get him to stop. She thought of two ways.

She only liked one of them.

Spike swiped low with his foot, connecting with her calf and sending her sprawling. He wasted no time and lept ontop of her, leaning into her jugular. Not good. Buffy reached back and punched him hard in the nose. He howled in pain, elicting another feril snarl. But he didn't give up.

Buffy quickly rolled, bringing herself ontop of him instead. She held the stake, poised for her attack. But rethinking her plan, she rolled off and waited for him to get onto his stomach to push himself up.

Before he could think about even standing, Buffy brought the heel of her boot down hard on his back. He grunted, falling. She tucked the stake away and slammed her foot into his forehead.

He lay motionless, demon face receding.

He was out cold. Blood dripping from his lip and nose.

He felt cold. Something cold was at his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Buffy holding a towel in her hand, wet with blood.

"Hey." she said, looking down at the floor.

"I seem to remember this happenin' before, love." he said weakly, head throbbing. He felt his lip. It was swollen pretty good.

A sigh. She wouldn't look at him.

"Wha' happened?" he asked, sitting slowly up. He felt a dizziness course through him and he braced the wall for support. When he could finally get a good look, he saw that he was in the basement again.

"The trigger."

"No, not that. I mean, did I hurt..."

"No." Buffy said quickly, folding the bloody towel in her lap. "We're O.K."

She still wasn't looking at him.

Spike gave a weak little sigh. He needed to be chained up. He should be shut away. The trigger was still working. And there were Potentials not twenty feet away.

"Buffy..." he said thoughtlessly. He came out as more of a sigh. Buffy still didn't look at him. "You need ta lock me up. In here. I can't get out."

"No." she said, warning coming into her voice. "We've been over this."

"I know that. I ain't talkin' bought you offin' me. I'm sayin', jus' chain me up. Tie me down. If I go off..." he stopped. He wanted her to look at him. "Buffy, look at me."

She sighed, looking at the ceiling. Slowly, her eyes drifted to his face. Their eyes locked.

"Spike, if the First uses the trigger again, I can stop you."

"Why can't you jus' do it?"

"Why can't I just do what?"

"What I'm askin'?" he narrowed his eyes, searching for an answer. "Just once."

She sighed, playing with the towel and looking down. Spike reached out and took her chin in his fingers, making her look at him, instead.

"Why? S'all I wanna know."

"Because you don't need to be. This...thing...whatever it is, we can handle it. But I wont chain you down here like some animal. A dog or something. I don't just keep you around to fight." she said, pulling out of his grasp. Spike still didn't understand. She needed him. She wanted him, yes, but she needed who he was. After everything he'd been through, the one thing he was worried about was...

...her.

It was a twisted kind of love, to be sure, but it was something she couldn't live without. She knew that sometimes she hated him, feared him, but in the end, all she wanted was for him to be there.

She couldn't fool Spike. For some reason, he knew what it was like to be all alone. And being with him, made it seem less lonely.

Spike sighed again, dropping his hands.

"You can do what you want Spike. If you want to chain yourself up, go ahead. I wont stop you, but I'm not going to do it." she huffed, standing. It took a moment of silence before she began walking, and when she did, he stopped her...

"Buffy," Spike suddenly pleaded as she headed for the stairs. She turned back to face him. He was unsure. He was so unsure. He was so lost. She sighed and walked back, sitting on the edge of the cot, her eyes never leaving his. And for a moment, she saw a flash of sorrow across them.

Something inside her told her to do it...

Everything screamed for her to just wrap her arms around him.

And she did. With one swift motion, she swept her arms around his bruised back and squeezed his shoulders. He leaned into the gesture, folding his own arms around her slight hips.

It was just a hug. A simple hug.

Like kids on a swingset, they were just holding each other.

--------------

Fin


End file.
